


Valoris Drabbles

by borislegasov



Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 7,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26919283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borislegasov/pseuds/borislegasov
Summary: A collection of drabbles and ficlets from prompts on mytumblr.Please feel free to send prompts my way! Some prompts have sexual content but those are marked with an authors note.
Relationships: Valery Legasov/Boris Shcherbina
Series: Tumblr Prompts [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1946320
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Prompt: "Your voice is sexy." - "Your ass is sexy."**

Boris put the phone down with a huff, leaning back in his seat. He’d been arguing with someone on the phone, his voice had been stern and possessed a gruffy quality to it - a tone which Valery had _always_ liked. It made his stomach twist and enlightened some fantasies that he didn’t even know he was capable of having.  
  
“Your voice is sexy.” Valery said without much thought, not bothering to look up from his paperwork. He failed to notice the air stilling around them, tension crackling, heat rising. He continued writing his notes, but a moment later, he realised what he’d said and inhaled sharply. His cheeks immediately set alight with a furious blush, feathering up to his ears and down to his neck, eventually stopping at the very top of his chest. His body thrummed with anxiety immediately, and he quickly opened his mouth to attempt to worm his way out of what he’d just said. _How on earth could he excuse that?!_

“Your ass is sexy,” he countered as soon as Valery opened his mouth to speak. The corner of his mouth tilted upwards into a wicked smirk as he took stock of the scientist’s reaction, noticing the intensifying blush now turning splotchy along his jaw and down his neck. Despite his intense blush, a small smile quirked at the corners of his lips. He watched him with fascination, wondering what was going through the scientist’s mind.   
  
But, that soon became clear.

“Wait… _What?_ ” he asked a moment later, tone incredulous and full of surprise, his smile dropping as if he’d finally processed that Boris _had_ actually just said that. He couldn’t wrap his mind around anything that had happened in the last couple of minutes, but he certainly hadn’t anticipated such an outcome… But he didn’t know what to do with this outcome either.   
  
Boris chuckled good naturedly, placing his hands on his thighs, standing up from his chair, heading towards the door in a swish movement. He turned the handle of the door and then responded with a straightforward, stern tone. “You heard.”   
  
He left the room then, leaving Valery to stew with his thoughts and wonder what it all meant. He thought about it for hours but couldn’t quite understand what had happened. Did Boris mean it? Was he poking fun at him? Though the thought plagued him, he couldn’t imagine Boris being mean enough to do something like that. He _knew_ deep down that it meant something… But he couldn’t bring himself to discover what it really meant for them. Despite himself, he found himself becoming _excited_ , buzzing with a steady flow of hope.   
  
_Please_ , he murmured to himself as he fell asleep that night, wrapped tightly in sheets, hoping to replicate the warmth of Boris’s touch.


	2. Take My Jacket

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boris is cold, but won't admit it. Valery offers to help.

**Prompt: "Here, take my blanket." - "I told you, I'm not cold." *shivering***

Boris was standing in a tent, the water pouring through the poorly made fabric, the thin material protecting them from none of the cold wind that was battering the sides of it. He sighed as he paced, attempting to keep himself warm, his hands thrust deeply in his pockets in an attempt to warm them from the heat of his legs. When he’d arrived that morning it was pleasant, the morning sun casting a toasty warmth. So he hadn’t brought his greatcoat - and now, he was wholly regretting that choice with every fibre of his being. 

He was keeping his distance from Valery so that he wouldn’t notice and decide to taunt him for not having the foresight to bring his coat under the assumption they would be working well into the night as usual. He didn’t want it rubbing in his face that he hadn’t brought a coat. He shifted into the corner of the room where the heat seemed abundant, crossing his arms over his chest with a violent rippling shiver, his legs wobbling beneath him as the cold nipped at every nook and cranny, to the point wherein he was starting to feel a little unwell.   
  
“Boris,” came Valery’s voice from a short distance. He straightened up at once, staring at him with an expectant look.   
  
“Yes?” he asked, as if the topic of discussion wasn’t going to be entirely obvious.   
  
“Here,” he began, holding out a heavy woollen coat. He almost took it straight from him instinctively, his body begging for the warmth, but resisted. “Take my coat.” Valery prompted, nodding his head towards it.  
  
“No, I can’t. I’m not even really all that cold…” Boris attempted to argue, but he shuffled closer to Valery, the temptation to take the warmth just a little too strong for him to handle. 

Valery laughed at that, shaking his head. “You’re sure doing a good job at hiding it,” he mocked, gesturing down to his hands that were balled into tight fists at his sides, his trousers quivering from the shivers. 

A moment passed between them, tension crackling in the air. “Fine.” Boris said quickly, extending a hand to take the coat gently from Valery’s own. 

Valery watched with a bright smile as he put the coat on and was pleased to find that it was plentiful roomy for him and buttoned up over his firm muscles with ease. He watched in fascination as his deft fingers worked the buttons, doing them up tightly. He watched as his body seemed to warm before him, his entire stature relaxing.   
  
“Thank you, Valera,” Boris said sincerely, his expression soft… almost _loving._   
  
Valery merely nodded in response, but the smile that lip up his features spoke a thousand words - they both knew it.


	3. Take It Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valery has some body confidence issues, and Boris eases them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has some implied sexual content to it, but nothing explicit.

**Prompt: "Take it off." - "Like a bandaid?"**

Boris and Valery were stood together in their shared bedroom, in the midst of undressing together for the first time - but Valery had hit a wall. He’d suddenly clammed up, unable to bring himself to remove his undershirt. He couldn’t bring himself to show his biggest insecurities, convincing himself that Boris would run for the hills if he saw how unfit he really was… he was, truthfully, terrified that Boris wouldn’t find him attractive whilst naked, and that nagging thought had pushed its way through everything else in his mind and perched itself at the forefront, quickly manifesting into pure panic.

“Take it off.” Boris said sternly, voice gravelly, intense and heavy from arousal. 

“Like a bandaid?” he quipped, exhaling a breathy laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood that he’d found himself in. 

It seemed Valery’s attempt to lighten the mood was in vain, however, because Boris simply did _not_ look amused. Valery knew from the deep glint in his eye that he was perceptive enough to understand what the problem was, and he wasn’t pleased with it. He had always hated when he put himself down, and now seemed to be no exception. There was, Valery noted, a look of affection behind the hardness of his expression, softening the intensity of his stare though only marginally.   
  
“Valera,” he began, placing his hands on Valery’s ample hips. “You are handsome. You are gorgeous, you are _sexy_ … You are the most beautiful man I have ever met. I wouldn’t be standing here with you now if I didn’t find you attractive, would I? Besides… I can only imagine that what’s beneath the shirt will be far more pleasing… I want to see you, I’ve dreamed of seeing you…” Boris’s words ran away from him, driven entirely by passion and his own arousal.  
  
Valery attempted to cut him off, opening his mouth to object, but was met with a low growl.   
  
“Don’t.” He growled in warning, his expression deepening. He leaned into Valery even closer than before, his breath ghosting over his face, their noses brushing as he moved. “Please don’t.” Boris added, a tone of plea in his voice.   
  
“I just… Don’t understand how you can be attracted to me. It’s not that I don’t believe it…” he paused, thoughtful. “Well, I suppose it is that I don’t believe it.” 

In answer, Boris dropped his hand from Valery’s hip to his hand, taking hold of it tightly in his own, spreading his fingers and pressing the flat of his palm firmly against the front of his trousers. He wrapped his own fingers around Valery’s, clenching his hand around the sizeable bulge in his trousers. He unintentionally caused a moan to slip past his parted lips, but quickly supressed it.   
  
“Do you believe it now?” he purred lowly, his lips brushing against Valery’s ever so slightly, teasing the tender flesh.   
  
He paused for a beat, then leaned in and claimed his lips in a swift, intense kiss. He immediately parted his own lips, enveloping Valery’s smoothly, his tongue darting across his lower, urging him to part them.  
  
“Y-yes-” he whimpered softly against his lips, the word disappearing behind the force of the kiss.


	4. Don't Be Stubborn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valery is cold, but won't admit it. Boris offers his coat, and insists he take it.

**Prompt: "Here, take my jacket." - "I told you, I'm not cold." *shivering***

“Valery, you’re dithering! Here, take my coat!” Boris insisted, thrusting the coat towards the extremely difficult, stubborn scientist again. His brow was furrowed intensely with frustration, rapidly losing his patience with him. But yet, somehow, he felt a miraculous affection towards him. It was almost _cute_ how difficult he was being and was certainly endearing. 

Valery’s teeth halted in their incessant chattering, his head whipping round to have a good look at Boris. He registered the strong frown on his brow and the stern expression but still felt obligated to say no. He didn’t want to wrap himself up in his coat, inhaling the scent of Boris and then have to give it back. He’d end up pining after him and his feelings would intensify - which was the last thing he needed whilst doing such serious work.   
  
“I’m- I’m fine, Boris,” he stammered unevenly, his voice wobbling under the strain of his dropping body temperature.  
  
Boris tilted his head back with a frustrated sigh, stalking across the room, stopping dead in front of Valery, looking down at him with a stern, yet caring, stare. 

“I’m not going to take no for an answer, Valery, so let’s save us both some time shall we? Take my coat!” He thrust his hand out once more, placing the coat firmly onto Valery’s shoulder where it rested for a moment.   
  
“I told you, I’m not cold.” He spoke through an intense shiver, his entire body rippling with it. Upon seeing this, Boris scoffed, grabbed the coat from his shoulder and walked around his back. Then, he spread the coat out behind him. 

“Arms.” He demanded.  
  
Valery rushed to comply, stretching out his arms at either side of him, bending them to allow Boris to slip the heavy greatcoat onto his arms, where it sat extremely comfortably and warmly. He stepped away once it was firmly on him, then walked back round to his front and tugged at the lapels of the coat, pulling the coat firmly against his back. He wrapped it around him, tightly, haphazardly doing up the buttons with a satisfied hum.   
  
“There you go. Better?” he asked, eyebrow raised quizzically. 

Valery had already drowned in the scent of Boris and gone to heaven. He was closer to him than he had ever been, had been almost pressed against his chest. His scent had wrapped around him, clinging to him, and now the warmth of his coat was further heightening his senses. He gulped down anxiously and merely nodded, a soft smile playing on his lips.   
  
“Thank you, Boris,” Whispered Valery.  
  
Boris nodded, smiled brightly, and returned back to work.


	5. You're Not A Bother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boris is struggling with his health and Valery is there to help... But Boris feels guilty about it, insisting that he's a huge bother. Valery disagrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, this chapter has mentions of illness (namely cancer), and is quite hard hitting. It made me cry whilst I wrote it, so I can't imagine reading it would be any kinder on the heart! Please heed that warning if needed.

**Prompt: "Baby, you're not a bother." - "I'm too needy, you don't deserve it."**

It had been just shy of a year since the final hearing wherein they had both given testimonies. It had been just a few short months since they had been reunited, and even less time since Boris had started chemotherapy. His health had deteriorated rapidly since their reuniting and Boris had attempted to keep it hidden from Valery; but you can’t well keep something like that quiet for long. They attended an appointment with his physician the next day, and he was placed onto a treatment program. So far, it hadn’t been too kind to him. Each morning Boris awoke, Valery could see his morale fading. Like a star, slowly fading. But he had worked tirelessly around the clock to ensure that Boris was healing the best he possibly could and so far, he was showing some small improvements. Whilst alone as Boris slept, he celebrated the small victories.   
  
Valery sat on a chair at the side of the bed, gently reaching forwards to shuffle his pillows to prop him up a little better. Boris huffed at the disturbance but they both immediately noticed the decreased rumbling in his chest, the lack of protest from his lungs, so he soon hushed. Valery smiled fondly at him, eyes sparkling, a soft smile hinting at the corners of his mouth. 

Boris suddenly coughed heavily, raising the handkerchief to his mouth with a pale shaky hand. Valery watched anxiously. He had learned weeks ago that there was little he could do for him during these moments other than the be alert in case he was unable to catch his breath (which thankfully hadn’t happened yet). The fit was shorter than the usual ones his poor love had been forced to endure and they both visibly relaxed upon the realisation, ease washing over them. 

“I’m sorry that you’re having to take care of me,” Boris wheezed, his voice weak yet his breaths heavy, each word punctuated with a struggling breath.  
  
Boris’s words broke his heart; but the tone in which he spoke them hurt him even more. He could hear the guilt in his voice, oozing like honey, the weight of his words lingering. Wordlessly, Valery lifted a hand to his forehead, momentarily feeling his temperature on his clammy brow, before sliding it backwards through his soft yet thinning hair in a soothing motion, gentle enough not to disturb any that were already coming out, his hand lingering at the back of his head for a moment. He pressed his hand against the back of his head, firmly holding his head up to encourage Boris to hold his gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. They stared at one another for a few beats, Valery swallowing down a hard lump in his throat, before he spoke again.  
  
“Baby, you’re not a bother.” He insisted, his voice gentle, tender and thoroughly laced with every ounce of love and adoration he felt for his love. As he spoke, he dropped his hand from the back of his head and placed it on his gaunt cheek, his palm spreading out over the soft skin. “You’re never a bother.”   
  
“I’m too needy. You don’t deserve it.” Boris argued meekly, his voice still a gravelly whisper. His chest wheezed as he suppressed further coughs, his body heaving forward with the effort.   
  
Valery exhaled some steadying breaths, the lump in his throat increasing exponentially. His eyes brimmed with desperate tears but he blinked them away. The last thing Boris needed was to see him cry, which would only heighten his guilt. “Listen to me, love,” he whispered, his thumb sliding back and forth over his cheek. “I’m never leaving you, Borja. I promised that months ago. We will get through this together.” He spoke with utter sincerity.  
  
Boris answered with just a nod, a small smile momentarily brightening his features. It was a moment of normalcy, their usual affection to one another. But soon, the pattern of coughing returned and Valery returned to mopping his brow, helping him drink and administering medication to soothe the ache in his lungs. Though it hurt him considerably, he wouldn’t change it for the world. He didn’t consider for even a moment to leave Boris. He wouldn’t, couldn’t. He loved him too dearly. He ached because of seeing his love in pain, not because he found difficulty in caring for him. He wanted to care for him - and he cared _hard_. The more determined his caregiving was, the quicker he would recover. His heart hoped for that every single morning, and it drove him through the days; even those tough days wherein Boris barely awoke and couldn’t speak. He would care for Borja when he himself was weak and feeble, and would never bat an eye. He just wanted to see him better. To see the smile pull up to his eyes. To hear his sweet laugh…   
  
Later that evening as Boris slept, Valery cried. He cried for the suffering Boris was being subjected to. He cried for the self hatred he seemed to have garnered towards himself since starting with his treatment, and, eventually the soft cries descended into body-wracking sobs out of pure fear that he was going to lose his love. 


	6. Move!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valery needs somewhere to sit, so opts for Boris's lap. Of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only a really, really short one - but cute nonetheless!

**Prompt: “Move!” - “Why would I move if I’m so comfy where I am?”**

Valery was sat comfortably on Boris’s knee, his right arm wrapped around his back, holding onto him tightly. Together, they looked at a document in front of them. 

“When I asked you to come here to look at this map, I didn’t mean for you to sit here…” he said, followed by an exasperated sigh.   
  
“To be fair, Boris, you didn’t exactly tell me where to sit and, if I’m not mistaken there aren’t any chairs around this part of the table.” Valery pressed, arching a brow.   
  
“Stand, then!” Boris responded smoothly, leaning back in his chair so he could get a better view of Valery.   
  
“Shan’t. Now, let’s just focus on this map, shall we?” He asked, attempting to turn his attention back to the map. But, Boris had pushed his hands under his butt and attempted to push him off, which just made Valery hold on tighter.   
  
“Move!” he said sternly, his voice raising a little bit though there was a distinctive edge of amusement to it.  
  
“Why would I move if I’m so comfy where I am?” he teased, laughing heartily.  
  
Boris conceded, then, moving his hands from beneath Valery, permitting him to settle once more. They both turned their attention back to the map, remaining there as they worked. 


	7. Long Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valery tries to get some private time, but Boris never misses a trick...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has some sexual content that's on the more explicit side.

**Prompt: “H-how long have you been standing there?” - “Long enough.”**

Valery worked his cock, stroking his slick fist up and down the leaking length, twisting his hand as he reached the base. Each time he did, he whimpered; a sound gentle and low, contrasting with the silence in the bathroom. He had been standing there for some time, working his cock with his hand between desperate thrusts of his hips, seeking his orgasm with greed.   
  
His orgasm hit him hard and all at once, his legs wobbling beneath him, threatening to give way beneath the immense pleasure surging through him. He extended a hand to press against the mirror, hoping to hold himself up as he bucked into his hand, riding the waves of his orgasm.  
  
“Ah-f-fuck, Borja,” he moaned quietly, a shudder rippling up his spine, hand falling unceremoniously from his cock. 

He remained where he was, bowing his head to dip below his shoulders, exhaling a deep sigh. It had happened yet again where he awoken in the middle of the night, too aroused to go back to sleep. He was passed feeling guilty now - he just felt ridiculous.   
  
He lifted himself up a moment later, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.  
  
Except…   
  
There wasn’t just _his_ reflection staring back at him.   
  
“H-how long have you been standing there, Boris?” he asked, his eyes widening. He was completely naked, hand covered in come. There was no point in trying to cover up what he’d been doing - and, knowing his rotten luck, Boris had seen the whole thing.  
  
“Long enough.” He replied smoothly, tone indifferent, passive even.  
  
“I can explain-” he began, but was cut off by a raised hand.   
  
“You needn’t. Wash up and come to bed with me.” He turned on his heel, leaving an _extremely_ confused Valery standing in the bathroom, staring at his own bewildered face.  
  
Wait, _what?!_


	8. Did You Just Hiss At Me?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boris makes an unusual noise. Valery can't resist pointing it out.

**Prompt: “Did you just hiss at me?” - “Are you judging me?”**

Boris breathed heavily, anger coursing through him, a powerful burning inferno. Unforgiving, unrelenting, and he was completely powerless as to stop it.   
  
“Just leave me alone for a minute, Valery.” His voice was stern, snippy.   
  
“For Gods sake, Boris, you just smashed a phone to pieces, I can hardly leave you alone knowing the damage you’ve already caused!” He responded smoothly, attempting to reason with him.   
  
Boris turned away from Valery, standing with his back firmly to him. He tilted his head back, and let out an almighty hiss of frustration, stomping his foot on the ground once.   
  
“Did you just _hiss_ at me, Boris?” He asked, completely dumbfounded.  
  
“Are you judging me?” He responded rapidly.  
  
“Well, yes, because it’s a bit unusual…” he released a small laugh in puzzlement.  
  
“You’re annoying me, Valery. I needed to take a breath.” He replied coolly, his tone softening somewhat.   
  
“Of course, but regardless… hissing at me is a bit bizarre…” he laughed, the humour of the situation cracking his hard exterior; the one he was previously using with Boris to try and shake him out of his strop.   
  
Boris soon started to laugh along with him, turning back to him with a large grin on his face. “I concede, it probably sounded weird.” He barked another laugh then fell silent once more. 


	9. New Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valery get's a new suit and wants Boris's opinion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have every intentions of continuing this one and making it into a full fic, but I hope you enjoy it as it is for now!

**Prompt: “Why’re you dressed like that?” - “Does that mean it looks good or should I change?”**

Valery was nervous. He had donned a rather unique outfit for the day, something he had bought on a whim whilst shopping for new undershirts. Though he hadn’t intended to buy a new suit, he had seen it and was immediately drawn to it - it was plain, but fitted him considerably better than his others and gave him a confidence he simply wasn’t used to. The suit, deep blue and well tailored to his form, was finished off with a slim-fit white shirt, plain grey tie, black braces and a brand new heavily polished leather belt. The trousers were tapered against his thick thighs and narrowed towards the bottom but still flared decently around the hem, covering his shoes a little. The suit was infinitely better than his usual and he felt considerably more confident - attractive, even - in it. But he found worries building as he stepped out of the bedroom and made his way down the hallway, heading for the lounge where Boris was sat waiting for him. He was worried that he wouldn’t find it pleasing, or would detest the sight of him in it. Nerves bubbled in the pit of his stomach as he drew closer and closer to the lounge, the sound of Boris reading the morning paper alerting him to his imminent presence. He attempted to walk into the lounge inconspicuously, absently buttoning the jacket up in order to give his fidgeting hands something to do. The nerves were mounting to an indescribable amount at this point, and though he felt attractive whilst alone he couldn’t help but fear that Boris wouldn’t find him appealing. It _still_ baffled him that he’d been attracted to him in the first place, and he didn’t want to ruin it. Though, somewhere in the back of his mind, his confidence argued with him and told him that it was absolutely impossible that he should find him unattractive. He was disturbed from his inner turmoil and over-eager thoughts by the sound of Boris slowly slurping his morning coffee, and then swallowing it down so loud that he was momentarily convinced he was choking. He turned, and was stunned to see that he was staring at him, completely aghast, eyes wide and mouth agape. His mug lolled in his hand for a moment, before he seemed to grab hold of himself enough to place it down onto the table. ”Are you okay?” He asked, in lieu of a greeting. Boris immediately nodded his head, without a beat of hesitation. “Valera, why are you dressed like that?” He asked, his voice hoarse, as if his mouth had suddenly become painfully dry. Valery looked down at himself with a frown, taking in the outfit from a new angle. He registered his broad chest, the way the jacket pulled over it in a mildly alluring way, how it tapered around his waist, followed his hips... and then he looked down the front of his trousers, where he was pleasantly surprised by what he saw. The curvature of his thighs, bulky, looked really good with the ironed-in crease running down the centre, further accentuated by his narrow calves and the narrowing of the trousers as they ran to the hem. He also noticed, however fleetingly, that his crotch looked rather appealing in the trousers too. He looked back up at Boris after appraising his outfit with a puzzled expression on his face, his confidence reinvigorated after seeing himself from the new angle.

“Does that mean I look good or should I change?” He asked, brow furrowing in confusion. Boris answered by standing up from his chair, placing his palms firmly on the table for a moment before pushing himself away and crossing the room, closing the gap between them swiftly, until he was towering over him. 

“No, you shouldn’t change.” He stated simply, his eyes darkening, his expression flushed. His body language was stiff, tense, his hands hanging by his sides, hands balled up into tight fists. “Then what’s the problem?” He asked in mock innocent confusion, cocking his head to the left, arching his brows. Boris swallowed heavily again, the sound audible in the stark silence of the room. The tension between them was palpable, almost malleable, and extremely intense - it was a suffocating weight, but a pressure that he was glad to be buried underneath. “The problem is that you’re wearing that and you expect me to get work done.” The answer truly took his breath away, a sharp intake of breath catching in his throat in sheer surprise at the honesty behind the answer and the sudden realisation at just how much of a success his outfit had turned into. Suddenly the darkness in Boris’s eyes made a lot more sense than it had previously, and the flush tinting his cheeks even more so. He could only imagine the heat searing through his body and wondered whether it matched that of his own; he was already hot, sweat building beneath his shirt, anticipation mounting beneath his trousers. They both stood there for some time longer and it seemed that Boris was becoming increasingly thoughtful with each moment that passed... Until he closed the gap between them with one step, standing in front of Valery so closely that he could feel the heat emanating from him. His breath caught once more, and he exhaled it shakily, a trembling breath. He moved backwards as Boris took another step, and another, until his back hit the wall with a gentle thud. He gasped at the impact, and released a low moan of anticipation as both of Boris’s arms raised their hands to press against the wall, one hand on either side of his head. Boris’s long fingers entwined with his own, and soon they were holding hands so tightly, their clammy palms pressed against each other with eagerness and firmness. He could feel the pulse racing through his love, feel the heat swimming through him... And he wondered if Boris could feel his, too. "I won’t make a mess of your new suit, love.” He growled deeply, bowing his head to press an all-consuming kiss against his lips, his tongue immediately seeking Valery’s own, robbing him of every single cohesive thought, his body submitting entirely to Boris’s promise...


	10. Breathe With me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valery becomes overwhelmed, and Boris is there for him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: panic attack, anxiety

Valery was leaning over the table in the centre of the mobile office, papers scattered around him, a full plate of food forgotten to the left of him. He hadn’t eaten for hours, since the previous night at least, and it was already coming up to midnight. But he was no closer to finishing for the day and, fatigue and hunger be damned, he wasn’t going to leave things half finished. It would only create more work for him the next day, anyway, he reasoned as he pushed papers to the side to make room for blueprints. He looked over the table at the sheer amount of work he still had left to do; his eyes flitting across the wide array of items still remaining on his to-do list. It seemed that no matter how hard he worked, how long he worked for, the list never decreased. He continued to look over the sheets, attempting to kick his mind into gear - but nothing was coming. 

He fidgeted. Shuffled from foot to foot. Ran his hand through his hair. Took his glasses off, absently cleaned them, put them back on... And stared resolutely at the wall, every ounce of strength suddenly draining from him. 

His thoughts had suddenly overwhelmed him, leaving him gasping for air, his body doubling over the table as a strange agony swept through his body. His lungs clawed at the little air he managed to drag in, the fatigue growing as his mind attempted to root onto some rationality. His hands clutched at the nearest things to him as the panic continued to soar through him, his body overheating, sweat beginning to pool along his hairline, his hands grabbing onto a pile of sheets nearby. His body reeled with the pressure suddenly being put upon it, and he tried to rationalise his own thoughts as they raced. 

_ I’m killing all of these people. All of those miners. I can’t even promise them they’ll live well afterwards. The State won’t look after them. It won’t look after us. I’ll never get this work done. We’ll have to stay for longer. Boris will have to stay here for even longer... Boris...  _

He was so entangled in his thoughts that he hadn’t heard the squeaking of the door, nor heard it slamming into place, much less had he heard the stomping of steel-capped boots approaching him in a jog. He only came to when a pair of strong arms wrapped around him, covered with a thick woollen coat. He was pulled forwards and collided with a chest... a firm, broad chest, a chin immediately resting on his head as he the embrace was tightened around him. Valery inhaled the masculine scent lingering on his clothes, allowing it to ground him, focusing on the notes of the cologne he wore. He’d never considered Boris’s scent before, but in this vulnerable moment (and with his face buried firmly into the lapels of his coat) he could focus on little else. 

They stood there for minutes, until the worst of the attack had passed; and by the time Boris spoke, he was beginning to come to. As the minutes passed, Boris’s tight grip on him never embraced - it only tightened. They held onto one another firmly, the embrace snug.

“Valera...” the soft whisper of Boris broke him out of his confusion. “Breathe with me.” It was an order laced with sweetness. He followed the breathing pattern Boris laid out before him, listening to the slow counting of the inhale and exhales. His body began to unwind quickly after that, but neither moved to shift away... Boris didn’t break the embrace, and Valery certainly wasn’t in a rush to.

So, they remained standing there for a long time. They only parted, reluctantly, as a knock sounded against the door. They both parted, their gazes connecting in silent acknowledgment of what had just happened and what had transpired between them as a result. 

“I'm sorry to bother you, Deputy Minister, but-- it's the miners.”


	11. Forgiveness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Boris and Valery have a bad fight, and bring the remainder of their negativity to the Kremlin the next day.

> Prompt: Boris and Valery have a really bad fight, and then have to go to a meeting at the Kremlin the next day, and they’re salty with each other

  
Boris is the first to enter the Kremlin meeting room, bypassing their usual preferred meeting place through possessing no desire to try and make small-talk with the younger man. It mainly stems from guilt, he knows this better than most, because he shouldn’t have yelled at him the way he did. When he closes his eyes he can still see Valery’s face as he cried, the seemingly endless stream of tears pouring down his face with such velocity that he’d choked a few times.   
  
It had broken his heart to know that _he’d_ caused that and that he simply couldn’t bring himself to face him. He wasn’t sure _why_ , as such; perhaps it was the pure fear that Valery might not accept his apologies, might never forgive him, and he’d lose the most important person he’d ever had. The one person he loves more than anyone in his entire life. He was utterly terrified of losing him and though the argument had primarily been the result of too much work and not enough sleep, he couldn’t shake the idea that he’d screwed everything up. The argument had started simply enough, with Boris pushing Valery to get some rest - but it seemed that he pushed him too hard. Valery had snapped at him, telling him to just let it be, to leave him alone, and Boris had taken it entirely the wrong way; exploding with mock-apologies, shouting that he was sorry for caring about him and he wouldn’t bother. The argument had escalated then, on his own volition, needing little else to fuel it. Boris had replayed the broken “leave” that Valery had spoken to him once they’d finally silenced, the word broken in two and punctuated with soft sobs, followed by sniffles and accompanied throughout with gut-wrenching tears. He could see the anguish in his face. Knew what he’d done without even needing to be told. He didn’t leave. He tried to apologise, but Valery would near none of it. He’d simply collapsed onto the sofa whilst Boris perched on the edge of their bed, quietly begging him to just _listen_. But the man was too distraught. Too hurt, betrayal running deep. He spoke how he’d never imagined Boris would have the capacity to be so cruel to him, especially when they were already under so much stress. It was apparent to him then, and even more so now, that he’d completely _fucked up_.  
  
Boris looks up as the door creaks open, followed by the remainder of the commission who quickly surrounded the table in their respective seats. He watches as each of them sits, seemingly unburdened by the tasks that sit before them. He smiles half-heartedly at them all; not out of want, but because he feels like he _needs_ to. Like he has to. But the smile fades with refined speed as the door opens again and Valery enters - hair smooth, soft, styled, shirt neat and trousers pressed, but there’s a distinct darkness in his eyes that he can’t quite bear to look at for more than a second. He looks down to the highly polished oak table, eyes following the grain with too much concentration, his fixation upon it unrelenting as the meeting began, progressed, and finished.  
  
After the meeting, Boris stands to bid farewell to his colleagues; mainly out of customary habit than anything else. Then he sinks back into his chair and looks across at Valery, who is skilfully avoiding his gaze as if his very life depends on it. He clears his throat once, twice, and then swallows audibly; the silence between them so strong that the gulp echoes from wall to wall.   
  
“Valery,” Boris begins, but doesn’t say much else. Can’t say much else. There are ears everywhere in this place.   
  
“Don’t.” Valery responded coolly, his tone thick with indifference and hurt.   
  
Boris falls silent then. His nightmares are happening. He’d tugged an already broken man into shattering into pieces. Stretched him too far, his stress had finally become too much for him, and it was because of _him_ that it had happened. He knew full well how it felt to have someone push you too far and the accompanying resentment that came with it. When the one you thought you could rely on pushes you too far and is the one to push you over the edge, it sticks with you... It seems that’s what happened here. And it hurts Boris more than he can begin to say, but his face says it all. He makes no attempt to hide the hurt on his face. Makes no attempt to disguise the regret, anguish and fear, even as Valery looks up at him. He watches his eyes widen as if recognising what the expression on his face means. He watches as something crumples, as the resentment gives way to sadness. Just sadness. That he can deal with. He can heal that.  
  
“Can we go back to the hotel and work together?” Boris asks. The words are inconspicuous to those who might be listening, but the emotion in his voice is evident to Valery, who nods silently.   
  
“Yes.” The reply is simple but it gives him hope. Endless hope that he can fix it.  
  
He does fix it. He fixes it properly, thoroughly, with tenderness and love. He explains what went wrong in his head, why he said the things he said, and that he loves him so dearly that he can’t bear to hurt him like that ever again. Valery gives in quicker than he’d like to, Boris assumes, but he doesn’t mind. He accepts the kisses he’s given, pushes Valery back into the bed and makes sweet love to him. Once, twice. They’re both swallowed by love, and regret for wasting precious moments of their lives succumbing to bickering... but in a way, it’s good, they realise. Because it makes them stronger. 


	12. Valery's New Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Modern AU, implied sexual content.
> 
> Valery has a new outfit for the start of the university term. Boris... approves.

> Prompt: “Are you getting jealous?” - “You’re changing your outfit, now!”

Valery strolled out from the bedroom, fully dressed and raring to go for his first day of the new term. He’d been working at the university for a handful of years now and was more than entirely settled in, and so had begun to feel more confident and comfortable to embrace himself which had been the catalyst of inspiration to discover a new wardrobe that was highly influenced by the younger professors in the university. Though not mimicked entirely so as to not appear to be a clone, he’d adopted some of the apparent style do’s, and done away with the faux pas he’d been part of for some time. On the last week of the break he had decided to go clothes shopping and had returned with a plethora of things - only some of which he’d agreed to model for Boris. The outfit he had chosen was one of the few things he hadn’t shown him, and he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d react to it - and he couldn’t quite ignore the prickle of anxiety in the pit of his stomach as he prepared himself for his love’s reaction. Boris had always made a show of how attractive he thought he was and, deep down, he knew this would be no different; but the outfit was so unlike anything he’d ever worn before.   
  
The trousers were well fitted to his legs, highlighting the gentle curve of his muscular thighs, down to his narrow ankles where they tapered to show a little bit of his socks before his highly polished shoes. The shirt was incredibly fitted, more than he was generally comfortable with (but he was feeling particularly daring), and nipped in at the waist and out again at the chest, giving him an hourglass shape. The tie was thin and ran down the buttons of the shirt, the jacket looser than the rest of the ensemble but still fitted to the point wherein if he was to button it up it, too, would highlight just how narrow his waist was. He felt _good_ , but couldn’t force the niggling nerves to dissolve.   
  
He entered the lounge as quietly has he could, wishing not to attract his husband’s attention immediately... but the older man never missed a trick, and turned immediately on his heel to face him, his usual bright smile firmly set on his handsome face. But when he laid eyes on Valery’s outfit, his eyes widened and his jaw fell slack to the degree wherein the expression was almost comical. He shuffled nervously beneath the intensity of his gaze, squirming as he fought against his nerves which were begging him to turn and run back to the bedroom to change. He couldn’t help but think, though, that this wasn’t necessarily a _bad_ reaction...   
  
“Morning,” he greeted softly, as nonchalantly as he could considering the heavy pounding of his heart.   
  
“Good morning...” Boris seemed to be struggling to appear casual, too; his face was completely betraying the casual tone of voice. It had gone bright red, an intense blush feathering over his cheeks.   
  
“How are y-” Valery couldn’t even finish his question before Boris spoke once more, this time his voice shaky, as if he was trying to fathom _how_ to speak.  
  
“Are you wearing that for your first day back?” As he spoke he seemed to find strength in his words, and soon he was talking sternly; his voice unwavering in its intensity, a harsh edge to his words.  
  
He’d only experienced this side of Boris once before - when he’d been under the impression that a fellow professor at the university had been flirting with him. He’d been firm and almost harsh with him until he’d managed to work the truth out of him, and even then he’d still been a little brash; right up until the jealous fears had been thoroughly dispelled.   
  
Which led him to wonder whether this was a similar situation... There was no use in beating around the bush. They could continue going round in circles all day if the situation called for it; they were both as stubborn as one another. So, with a confidence he didn’t feel, Valery spoke.   
  
“Are you getting jealous?” His voice was gentle, understanding.  
  
Boris’s blush immediately grew, snaking down the sides of his neck, disappearing below the collar of the casual t-shirt he wore before donning his own work clothes for the day. But he didn’t answer his question, not verbally at least. Instead he crossed the room, stopping only when he was standing right before Valery; so close that a slip of paper could not be slid between the two of them.  
  
“You’re changing your outfit.” Boris growled through gritted teeth, his composure long gone. “Now.”   
  
Valery arched a brow in challenge, cocking his head in silent question. He didn’t say anything, knowing full well that Boris would understand his expression. _Tell me why, Boris. I dare you._  
  
“If you don’t, you won’t be going to work on time. I’ll have to fuck you before you leave.”   
  
_That_ was certainly unexpected. His breath caught in his throat, forming into a hefty lump in the depths of his throat which was now adorned with a blush akin to Boris’s, mimicking his. He swallowed away the lump and tried to repress the feelings of arousal that immediately began to tremble down his spine, collecting beneath his trousers and multiplying at a startling rate, leaving his trousers feeling suddenly far too small; a feeling which wasn’t helped by Boris bowing his head to bring their lips closer together... So close he could feel his breath. Could smell the fresh mint toothpaste mixed with coffee. So, so close...  
  
“O-okay,” he responded weakly. “I’ll-” he stumbled over his words, trying to pull himself together just enough to speak properly. “I don’t see any harm in being a little late...” 


End file.
